Crickett (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator Book 8)

by Mike Faricy

  “A payment problem. That’s what you think this is all about? A payment problem?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess.”

  “You guess? Ben, you got a number of very dead people, and that number just might continue to grow,” I said, and shoved the .38 in his direction making him flinch. “Here’s the deal, my friend, I want my life back. I don’t want you, your old man, or that piece of shit Bulldog after me. I don’t want any payment. I don’t have anything you want or need. The cocaine, which you say never really belonged to you in the first place, is back in police or DEA custody. Maybe you can come up with a way to get hold of it again, maybe not. Not my concern. I just want to be left alone. Got it?”

  He looked somewhat quizzically at me, but nodded.

  “Say it,” I said, and thrust the .38 toward his head.

  “Yes, sir. I get it. You just want to be left alone.”

  “That’s right, and if I’m not. If someone comes after me, I have information set to go to the police that will incriminate everyone. You, your old man, Bulldog, and even sexy little Crickett, understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I mean, yes sir.”

  “We’ll see. Why don’t you take that belt off and kneel down on the floor.”

  He gave me a worried look.

  “Just do it. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have wasted my precious time talking to you. Come on, give me the belt and kneel down.”

  He handed me his belt, knelt down on the floor in front of me, and then started to shake. There were a thousand different things I could think of doing to him right now, but I didn’t have the luxury of time.

  “Put your arms by your side,” I said, then wrapped the belt around his chest and arms and buckled it as tightly as possible in the middle of his back. “Lay face down,” I said, and lowered him to the floor holding him by the collar. I pulled off his socks, knotted them together, then tied them around his ankles.

  “Just lay there and count to a thousand. I see you out in the hall, or anywhere near my car, I’m going to shoot first and ask questions later. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m kidding.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good boy, Ben. Now, I want you to tell Tubby to back the hell off and leave me alone, or I’m going to come after him, and you, and Crickett. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t forget, Ben your life depends on it,” I half laughed, then backed out of the door keeping a close eye on Ben. For his part he kept his face glued to the floor, it looked like he’s taken my advice to heart. His lips were moving and he seemed to be counting to a thousand.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I hurried onto the elevator, and went down to the parking garage. This time, I took a moment to let the air out of a front tire on both the Mercedes and the SUV then quickly made my way out of the building. I felt like I was being watched as I ran to my car, but no one came after me, and mercifully no one fired a shot.

  I placed the .38 in the glove compartment for safe keeping, then backed out of my parking spot. My cell rang just as I was pulling the Integra onto Shepard Road. “Haskell Investigations,” I answered, then almost hit a red pickup making an illegal left against the red traffic light. I slammed on the brakes, hit the horn and screeched to a stop.

  “Hi, Dev, returning your call,” Aaron LaZelle said.

  “My call? Jesus, which one, I left about a half dozen.” I flicked my middle finger in the direction of the pickup growing ever smaller in my rearview mirror, and turned onto Shepard Road.

  “So now I’m calling back. What did you want?”

  “Some help for starters, but it’s a little late for that.”

  His voice took on a more serious tone. “Now what did you do?”

  “Do? How could I possibly do anything? I got Tubby Gustafson and his thugs looking all over town for me. I can’t go home, can’t go to my office. Some nut case spotted my car on the street the other night, and broke into an apartment I was staying in. I can’t go to you guys because they’ve no doubt, got some deranged psycho just waiting to slit my throat in the shower room.”

  “Dev, we can give you protection.”

  “No offense, Aaron, but I think I’m better off looking after myself.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, I get it. I mean, it sounds to me like you’re really doing a bang-up job.”

  “Hey, Tubby hasn’t been able to get his hands on me, yet.”

  He didn’t respond to that.

  “Your guys get that stuff back in custody?”

  “Actually there was a bit of a problem with that.”

  “A problem? What the hell kind of problem?”

  “Seems there was a bit of a conflict between our people and the feds.”

  “Conflict?”

  “Yeah, a question of who was going to be in charge.”

  “But, you got it, right? I mean, tell me someone took the time to go over and get that shit back in custody.”

  “Seems by the time they finished arguing, then got over there, about all they found were some pizza crusts and an empty garage.”

  “What? They didn’t get the Ford Ranger that was parked there, just waiting for you to pick it up?”

  “’Fraid not.”

  “Oh, God, I don’t believe it. You didn’t mention my name to those DEA idiots did you?”

  “No, you’re down as the classic anonymous tip.”

  “Thanks. What the hell, does the term missed opportunity have any connotation? They sat there and argued with one another while someone else got in there and took the stuff?”

  “Yeah, I know. Some heads may eventually roll, not that it helps you any. If it means anything to you, I appreciate the tip, and it’s definitely a screw up on this end.”

  “Thanks, I feel tons better. Jesus.” I said, trying to get my head around such a major disaster.

  “So, now maybe you’ll accept some protection, look you could even come stay with me.”

  “That’s really nice, Aaron. I mean it, but you’d cramp my style. Besides, I’m working on a couple of things, and…”

  “Please tell me you’re not getting involved with Tubby and his band of misfits.”

  “No, why in the hell would I do something like that?”

  “It just strikes me as something that would be really stupid, and well…”

  “Oh yeah, ‘really stupid’ so therefore I’d do it. Hey, I can honestly say I haven’t spoken with Tubby since I don’t know when. So just relax.”

  “Let us help you, Dev. These guys aren’t fooling.”

  “No offense, buddy, but your record is less than sterling. Besides, I’ve got it under control, Aaron, so dial down, man.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yup.”

  “You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “I will if you promise to call back?”

  “I promise,” he said, and we hung up.

  I stuffed the cell back in my pocket, still in shock over the fact that they blew their one chance, then glanced in the rearview mirror. The double lane road was empty, with the exception of a vehicle coming up behind me that looked to be in a hurry. I had no idea where I was going, and all day to get there, so I pulled over into the right lane. The vehicle seemed to pick up speed, gaining on me. It figured, just the two of us on the road, and this jerk can sail past forty miles over the speed limit, but I’m the guy who’d get tagged. I watched him in the side mirror as he pulled along side. He seemed to float out there for a brief moment, then just as he was about to pass, he slammed into me, banging off the front wheel on the driver’s side.

  The Integra bounced, then fishtailed back and forth as I hit the brakes and fought to regain control. My head banged off the side window. I almost had the car back under control, when he bounced off me again and I sailed across the wide shoulder and headed sideways down a grassy incline. I pumped the breaks as I slid down toward a drainage ditch. I felt the car slide sideways and then begin to lift like it might be heading into
a roll, but it leveled off and spun around into the drainage ditch. My head banged hard against the window again as the car shuddered to a sudden halt. I waited a moment to catch my breath then attempted to drive forward. I could hear the wheels spinning and not getting any traction. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I attempted to shoulder the thing open, but it felt like it was welded shut.

  I rolled down the window, angled my way out then dropped into about a foot of mud the consistency of thick pudding. I ended up sitting in there with my arms extended behind me. The mud oozed up above my wrists and over the tops of my shoes. The wheels on the Integra were buried almost to the top of the rims.

  “Good things come in shitty packages,” a voice growled from behind. I couldn’t tell if he was referring to me or the Integra. I tilted my head back and stared upside down at Bulldog holding a very large pistol and flashing a very crooked smile. Two thick necked jerks were side stepping down the incline behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Get in there and pull his ass out,” Bulldog growled then quickly glanced around for anyone watching. It appeared we were all alone.

  I heard a car approaching up on Shepard Road, but it sailed past and didn’t so much as slow down.

  “Keep your damn hands were I can see ‘em,” he said, as two pairs of beefy paws yanked me effortlessly out of the mud. The mud made a sort of sucking sound as I was pulled out. They kept me at arms length as they dragged me up toward Bulldog.

  “This is gonna be fun,” Bulldog said, almost jumping up and down in anticipation then he clubbed me on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. The last thing I remember was he needed a shave, and his teeth were crooked and very yellow.

  I was between the seats and down on the cramped floor of some vehicle. I’d been down there for quite a while. I was pretty sure there were two pair of feet resting on me. My head really hurt and some sort of discarded, muddy boot was about a half inch from my face. I kept my eyes closed, and tried to keep my stomach down as we rumbled along a bumpy road. I was afraid if I gave any indication I was conscious they’d start kicking me, so I decided the best policy was to just remain still.

  We’d been driving for what seemed like hours, and maybe was, although I really didn’t know. As we made a sharp turn, I sort of slid across the floor until my head wedged against the door. Then some giant boot slammed down and held my head in place. The road grew bumpier immediately after the turn and I figured we were on a gravel road. A fine coating of dust began to drift in through the windows and settle on me. Road grime and the occasional dried mud ball grew thick enough that I could begin to taste it, on and on we drove.

  I drifted back to sleep, or maybe I was just in and out of consciousness, I don’t know. Ultimately, we turned off onto some other road that was a couple of notches down from what we’d been on. We couldn’t have been traveling more than about ten miles an hour, occasionally slowing down even further for some dip or bump along the way. I could hear branches and things bumping off the side of the vehicle. After maybe twenty minutes of that, we suddenly came to a stop.

  “God, it’s about fucking time, where in the hell are we anyway?” one of the pair of feet resting on me said then used my head to push off as he climbed out the open door.

  The air drifting in on me had a cool, damp feel to it, and I could hear birds that sounded as if they were a good distance off. Their calls seemed to echo. Someone was walking around outside the vehicle and I heard twigs snapping.

  “Drag that sack of shit out here,” a voice I recognized as Bulldog’s said.

  Heavy hands suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders, and unceremoniously yanked me out of the vehicle. I felt suspended in mid air for a good second or two, before I bounced off the wet ground with a loud groan. “Uff.”

  “Just stay down there wise guy,” it was Bulldog again, punctuating his statement with a sharp kick to my ribs.

  There was a loud creak, and I opened my eyes just enough to see a tailgate drop down on the back of a pickup. Bulldog gave a nod as a large figure crossed into my field of vision and pulled something out of the back of the pickup.

  The something turned out to be someone tied and bound with a hood over his head. As the large body hit the ground it bounced twice and didn’t move. This type of activity didn’t bode well for my immediate future.

  “Think he’s dead?” A voice asked then hauled something out of the back of the truck. A moment later I saw two rifle barrels hanging along either side of his legs. I could hear more items being dragged out of the truck, but I remained still, kept my eyes closed and hoped it would all just go away.

  “Haul that up to the main cabin, then bring one of them all terrains back down here, and we’ll drag these two into the shed. Let em rest up for their big day, tomorrow.”

  I heard what sounded like a heavy duty lawnmower start a few minutes later then grow louder as it came closer. Somehow I had the idea that if I just lay still they’d leave me alone and maybe go away. It didn’t work.

  Some jerk rolled me over, wrapped a chain around my legs then hoisted my feet off the ground as he hooked the chain to some sort of bumper hitch. He did the same thing with another chain. Through squinted eyes, I saw the body with the hood pulled over its head roll next to me.

  “Let me drive that thing,” Bulldog said, and climbed into the seat of the ATV. I opened my eyes just as he turned around with that stupid crooked grin plastered across his face. He raised his eyebrows when he looked down at me and said, “Giddy-up.” Then he floored the ATV and took off like a bat out of hell. The chain around my ankles felt like it would pull my legs right out of the hip socket. I rolled from side to side down a sandy trail, bouncing over the occasional tree root, or off the hooded body chained up alongside me.

  My hip glanced off a granite boulder, and I bounced over a half dozen more tree roots before we came to a stop. Dust drifted over me and into my eyes, nose, and mouth. I couldn’t stop coughing, and rolled to my side, which garnered the sudden attention of someone’s boot that placed another swift kick into my ribs.

  “No one said you could move, you worthless piece of shit.”

  Not a problem, I was already doubled over on the ground gasping for breath. It was going to be a while before I’d be ready to go anywhere.

  “Lock these two fucks in the shed, chain ‘em up to one of them beam’s. Then come on up to the cabin,” Bulldog said. With that, the ATV accelerated down the trail. I half expected to be dragged behind again, and waited for the chain to yank my legs out of the hip socket. Instead, a pair of hands grabbed me by my ankles, and dragged me thru an overhead door, into some sort of shelter. I felt myself get yanked up onto a concrete pad, and then get dragged another twenty feet.

  My legs were suddenly pulled up into the air, and over my continual groaning, I heard the sound of a chain being wrapped around something over head. There were at least two guys, and they did the same thing to the other body, then seemed to chuckle. One of them said, “Let’s grab a beer,” as if they’d just finished some yard work. Then the overhead door closed and I was lying in the dark on a concrete floor with my legs chained up in the air. Occasionally I heard a muffled sort of groan from somewhere off to the side, but it was too dark to see anything.

  I grew thirsty, and my head was pounding after being in the same position for God knows how long. A couple of times I croaked out a question, “Are you alive over there?” But I never got a response. Sometime later, the door was pulled open and a guy staggered in. I was either asleep, or flat out unconscious, until he kicked me with the toe of his boot.

  “Something to get your strength up for the games tomorrow,” he laughed, then poured what I think was a beer over me. I was parched, and attempted to lick up as much of the cold liquid as I could. My legs had gone completely numb. I couldn’t tell if I was wiggling my toes or not. About the only thing I could feel was a savage pounding in my head.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  I tho
ught it might be daybreak. I could see a hint of gray light creaking through the slit at the bottom of the door. Something small scurried in front it, a mouse, or maybe a rat. I was more numb than not, and very cold. Over the course of time, the light outside brightened, and I could begin to make out some blurry images.

  It looked like we were in some sort of large storage shed. There were a number of fifty-five gallon drums, various tools, shovels, odd pieces of lumber, and what looked like a cement mixer. A stack of tires were piled one on top of the other, over in a far corner. I could make out the grill and headlights of some dark-colored vehicle, way in the back of the place. Whoever was lying next to me was awfully still, although I could detect some breathing. I could just barely make out the hood pulled over his head.

  There must have been a sheet metal roof on the place, because there was the occasional hollow echo as a twig bounced off, or a bird landed and walked around before flying away. There were a few small nail holes where daylight attempted to shine through, but nothing that could be considered effective illumination.

  I heard their voices from some distance off. The hum of conversation, but still too far away to discern what was actually being said. A minute or two later, the sound of their footsteps came into range, the occasional snapped twig, kicked dirt, and then the pounding of feet on the concrete pad, just before the door was pulled open.

  For a brief moment, bright light flooded in the open door then three large figures strode in blocking out most of the light, and throwing me back into the shadows.

  “Get ‘em down or they won’t be worth shit on the course this afternoon.” It was Bulldog’s voice, and I immediately tried to feign unconsciousness. I felt my legs being raised even higher for a moment, and just as I was about to let out a groan, they dropped like a rock, and bounced off the concrete floor. Pain shot up my spine, and exploded at the base of my skull like fireworks going off. When the legs on the body next to me hit the concrete floor, he let out an audible groan.